


Five Nights for John Watson (Or better known as 'The Time John Watson Learned He Could Handle Just About Anything')

by TexMex007



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF!John, F/M, Go figure for that too, He looks hella fine in a night guard uniform, I forgot to mention that earlier, I forgot: Lestrade is a Criminal Justice major, I ship an armada, I'm sorry I love the idea of their majors, Irene is a sociology major, Irene is not a bitch, Jim has a Skitty because they're never boring and hella cute (like him), Jim is a business management major, John and Irene are besties from childhood, John and Sherlock and Jim are in a mutual three way relationship, John as well as Mike and Molly are bio majors, John is the night guard at Freddy's, John is their anchor, Kay thanks bye, M/M, Mike and Molly are freaking adorable as hell, Multi, Mycroft is a poly sci major, Oh shit!, Oops, Pokemon battles via DS between Sherlock and Jim, Sherlock has an Absol because it's everywhere in the Pokelock fanart, Sherlock is a chemistry major, So many tags, Sophomore year of college, They Explain Everything, Uni!lock, a bit of Unresolved Sexual Tension, fourth semester for gang, go figure, it's kinda awesome, mentions of sexual acts but nothing too serious, oh yeah, read the tags, sorry(not sorry), story is based on a prompt I saw somewhere in the abyss that is tumblr but I can't find it anymore, story setting is around Five Nights at Freddy's, that gets resolved real quick ;), there's a good amount of cursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:06:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3250784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexMex007/pseuds/TexMex007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John figured having a night job working as the security guard at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria definitely beat the idea of waiting tables. It sounded more exciting, and it paid better. His friends had all cheered him on with encouragements, albeit also with the reminder that the "Kid-friendly" establishment was once the place of a gruesome murder. After all, that had been years ago-so it wasn't relevant, right?</p><p>Oh, how wrong he was indeed. When John asked for excitement, he didn't expect exactly what he was diving head first into.</p><p>Now he's faced with demonic, possessed animatronics that want to stuff him into a suit alive at work, and two flatmates who want to eat him alive at home(not like he's complaining about that bit, mind you). He would quit, but John Watson is nothing if not one to stick it out, and stick it out he will do. He even grows to like the characters he had been hired to protect.</p><p>If only Foxy would stop banging on his office door like a fucking tax collector.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Announcement

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is going to be fun. Think of this chapter like sex-what you'll be reading first is all just the foreplay. The climax is coming soon after ;)  
> Please comment and review, I'll be looking forward to your feedback! Stay beautiful, my lovelies!

Five Nights for John Watson

By: Texmex007

 

            “Guys, I have an announcement to make.”

            John’s voice reverberated throughout the small living room of the flat that he, Jim, Sherlock and Mike shared. They were a proud little family, their flat only a mere fifteen minute walk downhill to the university they attended. Everyone in the group of close friends turned their heads to John, who was standing up, his palms flat on the wooden coffee table and leaning towards them as they lounged about on the floor and on the sofas. The gesture was not unlike to the one he made whenever he was about to explain a game plan to his rugby team and there was a certain gleam in his cobalt eyes that did not go unnoticed.

            “ _I_ know what it is.” Greg commented off-handedly with a smirk as he looked up at his captain. Greg stole a glance over at Mike who was also on the team, but the glasses wearing jock was too busy making eyes at his girl, a beautiful, yet quiet brunette named Molly Hooper.

            Greg had shared an English lit class with her last semester and hooked Mike up on a blind date with her as a joke since Mike lived with three guys who liked to take turns going on dates with each other. Story made short, Mike and Molly hit it off right away and Mike now blessedly had a reason to leave the flat (and the unresolved sexual tension) for days at a time.

            John shot Greg a look which read somewhere along the lines of ‘ _shut the hell up_ ’ that quickly silenced the criminal justice major with a small smirk. Mycroft, who was relaxing on the sofa next to Greg, patted his back sympathetically.

            “Lemmie guess!” Jim said with an energetically raised and waving hand that would normally be seen in a classroom full of first graders, not college sophomores like they were supposed to be. But seriously-who said you were supposed to act grown even when in college? _Whoever it was should be hanged_ , Jim thought, _or shot. Or burned at the stake…Oh. That was a good one.._   Jim leaned forward on the pillow he was sitting on as he sat on the floor in front of the armchair that Sherlock was reclining on, his other hand upholding his still waving arm. John chuckled,

            “Okay, fine Jim, guess.”

            Jim placed a hand over his heart and quickly looked at everyone in their circle, “You’ve finally come to terms with your undying love for _both_ me and Sherly, and now you can’t fight it anymore and you want to propose a threesome?”

            Sherlock, reclining with his legs dangling over the arm rest and his back pressing against the other arm rest of the huge armchair behind Jim, snorted imperiously but chuckled nonetheless with the rest of the group, including John.

            “If I’m not mistaken,” Sherlock said with a raised eyebrow, knowing full well he was right as Jim turned around to meet his eyes, “what you just did is called ‘Projection’.”

            “You’re not mistaken.” Molly muttered to herself on the other end of the couch that Greg and Mycroft also shared with her and Mike as the term resurfaced from the Psych test she had taken a week ago. She turned to Mike as he squeezed her hand and he shot her a proud smile that made her cheeks flush a pretty pink.

            “Guilty as charged.” Jim admitted, turning around and raising his hands up in the classic defense of palms up and in front of him.

            “That wasn’t it,” John said matter-of-factly, crossing his strong arms over his broad chest that never failed to make Jim’s mouth water, “although I’ll have to catch you up on that. Later.”

            There was a pause as he shot Jim a wink that quickly earned him a wolfish grin back. Despite his attempts to not be affected by it, Sherlock’s stomach fluttered at the thought of Jim’s proposal.

            After a moment or two, Irene looked up from the process of painting Molly’s nails a turquoise color and raised an eyebrow at John, tapping her own ruby red nails against the wooden table.

            “Well Jay,” she said, calling him his childhood nickname, “tell us.”

            He shot her a sunny look,

            “I’m getting a job.”

            “No shit? That’s awesome John!” Mike declared with the slap of his own knee. Molly gave John a surprised smile,

            “Wow! Where will you be working John? Maybe we can visit you!”

            John laughed, “I’ll be working at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria.” He explained.

            Greg chuckled, “ _Fazbear_.” He muttered, “What a funny word.” Mycroft rolled his eyes but Sherlock could see the faintest trace of a smile on his face. _Oh Mycroft_ , _you’re becoming such a softie. Soon you’ll be able to see just how soft you really are-besides looking at your waistline._ He mused with a smirk, _Ta Greg. Ta._

            “You mean that kid’s place with the animatronics?” Mycroft asked, recalling the place with mild nostalgia as he remembered spending Sherlock’s eighth birthday at Pirate’s Cove. He smiled softly, his hand still resting on Greg’s warm back as he reflected on Sherlock’s eight year old smile, wide on his face as Foxy the Pirate put on a show for his little buccaneer of a brother. His smile turned sour as he casted a glance towards Sherlock as the lanky boy continued to lounge on the armchair very much unlike a normal person and vaguely wondered what happened to the cute little boy he used to enjoy making fun of.

            He guessed, with a sigh, that he simply grew up.

            “Wouldn’t that be fun?” Jim sneered, his face cupped in his hands and his elbows propped up on the table, “Sherly and I could come visit you and get you into _all sorts_ of trouble,” he turned around to face the curly haired boy, “right Sherlock?”

            Sherlock’s answering devious smile left the rugby player feeling as if he’d just ran a whole day’s worth of laps around the field.

            “Hold up,” Mycroft said with an upheld hand, “Didn’t it take over Fred Bear’s Family Diner?”

            John tilted his head in thought, “Yeah, after that girl got killed they closed the diner down. The rights and animatronics were given to the new place-Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. It just had a grand re-opening.”

            “Don’t you remember _why_ it was being re-opened?” Molly asked, her voice timid. John raised an inquisitive eyebrow,

            “No…”

            Molly bit her lip as if she didn’t want to continue, so Mike spoke up, a little edge in his voice that was rare for the gentle hearted rugby player to make, “Yeah, I remember. Some _rat bastard_ had snuck around the place with one of the animatronics’ suits and abducted as well as murdered five poor children before hiding their bodies around the premises.” He paused, his face was a little green as he continued,

            “The authorities weren’t able to find the bodies.”

            “Ugh!” exclaimed Irene as she noticed John’s usually ruddy complexion drain, “what the hell Mike-way to ruin the moment!”

            John shook his head, “Nah, it’s all good. That happened a long time ago anyways. Like, what, the eighties?”

            “That’s right.” Jim chirped, “No need to get worked up about it Johnny-boy. What’s your position there, anyway?”

            “I’m working as the night guard.” John answered, “So you actually won’t be able to visit me.”

            “Oh, that’s too bad.” Irene pouted, her dark red lips trembling just a tad. John smiled at his best gal pal.

            “Ooo,” Jim cooed, a sudden thought occurring to him, “so you’ll be in a… security uniform, then?”

            John nodded resolutely, “Yep. I’ll have a torch, baton and even cuffs. No intruder is going to get by yours truly.”

            “How absolutely scrumptious of you, Johnny-boy,” Jim said with an eager smile, “you’ll have to let me take a pic.” John blushed a little, fairly used to Jim’s blatant teasing.

            “I concur with that statement…” Sherlock replied, his voice as low and deep as thunder as he mentally and meticulously took turns with Jim inside his mind with undressing a handcuffed and uniformed John Watson, “and I too require a picture. I am not sharing with Jim.”

            Jim turned around and watched with a smug smile as Sherlock unconsciously ran his tongue along his lower lip, his thoughts similar to the blue-green eyed boy, although his fantasy included more restraints and that baton John had mentioned.

            John blushed harder.

            “When do you start your shift?” Mike asked, earning him a grateful, tight smile from the blushing dirty blond.

            “I start tonight, since it’s Monday and all,” he said as he checked his watch, reading 3:30 P.M, “I begin my shift at 12 and it ends at 6 o’clock sharp in the morning.”

            “Six hours each night? How long are you working for-a week?” Greg asked.

            John nodded as a confirmation, “Yep, till Friday.”

            “How much is the pay?” Irene asked as she screwed the top of the fingernail polish back onto the bottle and now finished with Molly’s pristinely painted turquoise nails. John could vaguely hear Mike complimenting his girl about them.

            “Well, I’ll receive 120 dollars at the end of the week so it’s-”

            “He’ll be making four dollars an hour.” Sherlock blurted before John could continue with his mental math. John was about to roll his eyes when he caught the look of wanting appraisal come from the chemistry major. He beamed at the curly haired boy instead and provoked a blush that rose from Sherlock’s neck to his face. It was worth it.

            “That’s not bad,” Mycroft muttered, “but the time schedule is…” he trailed off, shooting John a semi-sympathetic look.

            John shrugged, “Hey, extra money is extra money.”

            “I could think of other ways in which you could pocket some extra money.” Jim commented off-handedly, his voice casual but there was something in his eyes that danced about John’s conscience, sending him subliminal messages that he didn’t know he wanted to hear until he heard them. He decided not to take the bait this time.

            “I don’t think putting up a lemonade stand is going to work.” He said with a smirk as he watched Jim frown just a little, enough to tell him that Jim knew that _he_ knew. If there were to be jokes about becoming a stripper, let there not be a room full of witnesses. John could be called many things, but ‘heartless’ was not one of them.

            There was a short silence before Mike got up from the couch and helped Molly,

            “Well,” he announced, “Molly and I are going to go study for our Bio exams,” he said, shooting a meaningful look at John who also had the same class, “so we’re leaving.”

            There was a couple of ‘good-bye’s said before they walked out the door. Greg, Mycroft and Irene were next a couple of hours later. Greg had talked about needing to go home to work on his flat before clean checks arrived. Mycroft gave a vague explanation that had something to do with the gym (to which Sherlock immediately knew he wouldn’t be going to-call it ‘brother’s intuition’) while Irene just kissed John on the cheek and left, but not before ordering John to get some sleep before he went to work, and that her phone was on so he could text her when he was at work.

            “I mean it Jay,” she said, her bright green eyes wide as she looked at him, “Get some sleep, and you text me if anything happens, or if you’re just bored. I don’t care what time it is.”

            “Okay Ire,” he replied, making her preen as he used his nickname for her, “I will.”

            She kissed him on the cheek, “You better.” She said before promptly shutting the door behind her.

            John chuckled as the door shut, his eyes shifting from the floor to the two other occupants of the flat. Jim had shifted from sitting on the floor to switching places with Sherlock so that now the Irishman was sitting in the armchair radiating an aura of authority with one leg crossed over the other and his hands resting on the arms while Sherlock sprawled out on the couch, his hands folded up under his chin and his eyes closed.

            “Well,” John sighed as he stretched, “I’m going to do what Irene said and get some sleep. Try not to burn the flat down, yeah? I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

            Jim smiled sweetly, “Whatever do you mean?” he asked, his voice lilt and carefree, one hand forming a fist that rested under his tilted face. John scowled,

            “You know _exactly_ what I mean, Jim.” he growled. Two weeks ago, John had gone on a fieldtrip with some of his bio classmates and came home to the horrid scene of fire trucks and police crawling over his flat. Apparently, a certain duo had gotten “bored” while John was away, and a crazy experiment involving soda cans, lye, and tin foil ensued.

            “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Jim replied confidently, waving the comment off. He drew an ‘x’ over his heart with his finger, “cross my heart and hope to die.”

            John smiled darkly, “You will be hoping to die if you do something and I get a hold of you.” he warned.

            Jim waggled his eyebrows flirtatiously and leaned forward in his seat, “Oh Johnny,” he said in a slow, sensual manner, “I _love_ it when you talk murder to me.”

            Sherlock’s eyebrow quirked up and he smirked, his eyes still closed.

            _I love it when you talk murder to me too, John._

            “I can never win, can I?” John mused, an exasperated sigh escaping from his lips as he turned toward the hall that branched out into three locations; on the left was Mike and Jim’s room, on the right was the bathroom and straight lead to his and Sherlock’s room.

            “No.” John heard Sherlock and Jim say unanimously.

            “Well good night.” He said, pausing at the door frame to hear their responses before shutting his door.

            “Good night, John.” Sherlock replied lazily, his eyes still closed.

            “Dream of me!” Jim cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted down the hall, snickering at Sherlock as they heard John yell back “I won’t!” as he slammed the door shut.

            John fell asleep easily enough, only needing roughly fifteen minutes to get into a deep and-thankfully-dreamless sleep. When he awoke to his alarm, it was 10:45 p.m., giving him enough time to get dressed, hang around a bit to tease his flatmates, get something to eat, and then make the nearly hour drive to his work. He checked himself in the mirror and took a minute to admire his appearance in the mirror.

            The uniform Freddy’s was giving him was fairly simple, a blue and black hat sporting a star, a light blue collared shirt and black slacks. If he was carrying a gun, he could easily pass as a police officer. As he walked out of the room and down the hall, he was met by a very unmanly but altogether flattering giggle that no doubt belonged to Jim as he adjusted his black tie.

            “Holy fucking shit,” Jim exclaimed, jumping off the armchair in his plaid pajamas and white t-shirt and setting his Nintendo DS onto the coffee table to grab his phone, “I need me a pic.”

            _I need me a taste_ Sherlock thought as he stared up at John.

            John smirked down at Sherlock who was gazing up at him from the couch and winked at him, totally unaware of the geniuses’ thought process and provoking another blush to crawl up the boy’s neck that for a moment made him want to follow it with his lips. Sherlock immediately stood up and moved over to Jim’s side in front of the blue uniformed blonde, his eyes roaming everywhere unabashedly.

            “Alright then,” John looked to Jim who wordlessly took Sherlock’s phone from his outstretched hand and placed it on the table to use after his own. John rolled his eyes, of course Sherlock would be too lazy to take his own picture-but he had to admit, Jim always seemed to take the best pictures between the three of them.

            Suddenly feeling bold, he pulled out his baton and leaned against the hallway’s wall, one leg crossed in front of the other as he held the baton in both hands, tilting the weapon slightly forward so it was posed as if he was going to whack the cameraman, a devious smirk resting comfortably on his lips.

            _Click!_

            Jim took Sherlock’s phone and gave his own to the curly brunette to examine. Sherlock hummed appreciatively at the picture before he put Jim’s phone onto the table and leaned in behind the short Irishman to watch him take the picture. John put the baton away, this time propping himself away from the wall and turning his body towards the camera, his arm firmly holding him away from the wall. He crossed his legs again, his head tilted just a bit and raised a tad. His eyes were still focused on the camera, but now he seemed to hold a look of superiority as the handcuffs hung loosely on his finger as if he was daring the viewer to try to escape him.

            _Click!_

            “Well?” John asked as he saw Sherlock snatch his phone back from Jim and held it up close to examine. Jim waltzed over, his hands gripping John’s uniform collar as he stood close to the blonde and a wide, mischievous smile bloomed across his face as he stared down at John with dark, dark eyes.

            “When-or more like-where, did you learn how to pose, Mr. Watson?” he purred, his hands sliding down from the collar and stopping over his chest for a moment for the slightly taller brunette to feel John’s heart palpitate.

            “Well,” John stuttered, “I figured it looked cool in my head-” his breath hitched as he moved to take a step back but a warm, solid body pressed up against his back and two purple sleeved arms wrapped around his torso, just above his utility belt.

            “I think the correct adjective is _sexy_.” Sherlock’s warm, deep voice caressed the shell of his ear. The two arms tightened just a bit as Jim stepped closer, nearly sandwiching John in between the two geniuses that he called his flatmates. Before he could respond, Jim’s lips were sliding along perfectly with his and Sherlock’s were planting almost painful love bites on his neck that were most certainly going to bruise.

            For one wild moment, John thought about not going to work that night.

            _Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

            John groaned as Jim pulled away, and pressed the button on his watch, stopping the infernal noise in its tracks. Sherlock kept his arms wrapped around John’s waist and smirked at Jim who’s plan was this: grab John and pull him in for a quickie. Jim’s plans rarely failed, but it was obvious this one would and the fact in itself placed a comically sad look on the business management major’s expressive face.

            “I’ve got to go,” John sighed, prying Sherlock’s hands away. He headed towards the door and the two followed.

            “Like Irene said, feel free to text us too if you get bored.” Sherlock said, placing a quick peck on his cheek.

            “If you don’t, I’ll end up texting you.” Jim added, reclaiming the dirty blonde’s mouth once more before releasing him to stand next to Sherlock, his DS back in his hand.

            “I will, don’t worry.” John laughed, “It’s basically a desk job-they have monitors I just have to look at.”

            Jim wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s waist and leaned into his side, “Okay, we may or may not be asleep by the time you get back, so just for good measure I’ll say ‘good night’ now.”

            “Good night!” John said over his shoulder, shutting the door to the flat. Jim’s hand wandered just a little past the taller boy’s hip and Sherlock turned to him.

            “Wanna have a Pokémon battle?” Jim asked, lifting the DS up and shaking it a little, “I know you brought yours with you this semester-you brought Pearl to go with my Diamond. How romantic of you.”

            Sherlock smirked, “Only if you’re ready to get your ego bruised.”

            Jim laughed and moved away from Sherlock to plop onto the couch, “Puh-lease,” he said in a high pitched, cutesy voice, “I’m totally going to destroy you.”

            “I don’t think your Skitty can beat my Absol.” Sherlock deadpanned, shooting Jim a sideways glance to watch his reaction. Jim scoffed, his eyes wide open.

            “You leave my precious Tiara out of this!” Jim growled, “She can totally kick your team’s ass by _herself_.”

            “Sure she can.” Sherlock replied in mock assurance.

            “You’re just jealous because Nitro can’t learn Blizzard,” Jim continued, “and besides, who the fuck names their Absol ‘Nitroglycerin’?”

            Sherlock headed down the hall and came back with his DS, turning it on before plopping down beside Jim.

            “If making fun of my Absol’s name somehow helps you to believe you actually stand a chance-which you don’t, by the way-then you go right ahead.”

            Jim smirked, “How about we raise the stakes then?” he asked as he tucked his feet underneath Sherlock’s thigh.

            “What are you proposing?” Sherlock mumbled as he controlled his character to the nearest Pokémon center.

            “Winner gets a blowjob from the loser.”

            Sherlock’s eyes left the screen and met Jim’s in an intense stare. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds that, to anyone else, would have felt like eternity. Finally, a slow, wicked smile spread across Sherlock’s face and Jim grinned like the Cheshire cat. It was a clear win-win. Sherlock liked win-win situations while Jim downright adored them.

            “Best two out of three.” Sherlock said, and Jim nodded.

            They were in for a long night.

            *

            It didn’t take long for John to reach the pizzeria and clock in for his shift, quickly bidding good-bye to the fella before it became his turn to watch over the beloved kiddie kingdom. He watched the guy leave in a hurry, sweat sheening on his brow and his breath heavy. John didn’t think anything of it.

            He sat down in the black swivel chair and sighed contently against the plush leather. He checked the monitor quickly and flipped through the rooms, ending with the room showing what the manager described were the main attractions-Freddy the bear on the far left, Chica the chicken in the middle and Bonnie the bunny rabbit on the far right, closest to the camera. Sherlock had told him about Foxy the pirate, but it seemed that Foxy was held separately from the other three. John checked his watch.

            12:00 A.M. on the dot. He whipped out his phone and sent a quick text to Irene, Jim and Sherlock.

            **Just letting you know I’m here at work now –JW 12:01 A.M**

            Irene’s response was instant,

            **You bored yet? Lol –IA 12:01 A.M**

John smiled and rolled his eyes,

            **I’ll let you know when I am –JW 12: 02 A.M**

            A couple of minutes rolled by before the office phone began to ring from somewhere in the vicinity of his desk. There was so much junk piled on the old mahogany desk, including precariously stacked papers, a couple of manuals, and a single black desktop fan. Finally he found it underneath a couple of stray sheets of paper and picked it up from the receiver.

            “ _Hello?”_ the voice said. John tried answering but it just continued talking as if he-the voice was definitely a ‘he’- didn’t hear, “ _Hello? Eh..”_ John instantly realized it was a recording and put it on speaker.

            “ _I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled down on your first night._ ”

            “That’s nice.” John said to no one in particular. The voice continued,

            “ _Um, I actually worked at that office before you._ ” The voice paused and picked up again with a hint of pride, _“I am finishing up my last week now as a matter of fact, so I know it can be overwhelming but I am here to tell you that there is nothing to worry about. You’ll do fine.”_

John leaned back in his seat and tapped a pen that he had found in one of the drawers against the table.

            _“So let’s just focus on getting you through the first night. Okay, let’s see-um, first there is an introductory reading for the company that I am supposed to read. It’s kinda a legal thing, you know.”_

            John nodded and waited for the voice to continue. It was obvious that the man who was speaking—John forgot his name and opted to call him ‘Phone Guy’ for now—had reached for something, probably a sheet of paper to read off of. Phone Guy cleared his throat.

            “ _Um, welcome to Freddy Fazzbear’s Pizza, a magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life.”_ By the slight monotonous tone in his voice, it was also pretty obvious he had read it at least a dozen times before. The voice picked up speed as it continued.

            “ _Fazzbear’s entertainment are not responsible for damage, property, or person, on discovering of damage or death has occurred._ ”

            John stopped tapping the pen against the desk and frowned. “Okay then...” he said to himself, “that’s a bit extreme. It’s a kid’s place, how much damage can really be done here?” He checked the monitors once more as he continued to listen to the voice.

            “ _A missing person’s report will be made within 90 days and the death of a person will be cleaned with bleach and the carpets will be replaced with new ones, blah blah blah-”_

            “What the fuck?” John exclaimed, tearing his attention away from the monitors, the pen slipping from his hand and clattering onto the desk as he leaned forward towards the receiver.

            “ _Now, that might sound bad I know,”_

“That sounds bloody terrifying!” John exclaimed, even though he knew no one would hear him.

            _“But there is nothing to worry about. The animatronic puppets become quirky at night, but do I blame them? No! If I were forced to sing those same stupid songs for 20 years and never got a break, I’d probably be irritable at night too. So remember—these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children, so show them a little respect, alright?”_

Not even for one second did John intend to disrespect the animatronics. He was here to protect them, for goodness sake.

            “ _Okay, so just be aware that the characters tend to wander a bit. Um, they have some sort of free roaming mode at night, um, something about their servers locking up if they get turned off for too long_. _Um, they used to be able to walk around during the day too, but then there was the bite of 87’. Yeah, it’s amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, ya know?”_

            There was a nervous chuckle that emitted from the receiver that sent a cold chill down John’s spine, even though the room was a comfortable 75 degrees. What did he mean by ‘the bite of 87’? What was this about ‘free roaming’ mode? John groaned and checked the monitors again, eyeing the three animatronics warily as they stood stock still in their places.

            A sickening, wandering thought struck him as he stared at them: Which one of those animatronics caused some poor bloke to lose their frontal lobe?

            “ _Now,”_ John listened to the voice but did not turn away from the monitors, “ _concerning the only real safety during the night watch if any, is the fact that these characters-if they happen to see you after hours- probably won’t recognize you as a person. They’ll most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now, since that’s against the rules here at Freddy’s Fazzbear’s Pizza, they’ll probably try to forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazzbear suit. Um, well that wouldn’t be so bad if the suit themselves weren’t filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices especially around the facial area. So you can imagine having your head being pressed inside those would cause a bit of discomfort and death. The only parts that will see the light of day will be your eyeballs and teeth that will pop out of the mask.”_

_WHAT? A BIT of discomfort? DEATH? How does he know this??_ John mentally screamed, his eyes darting between the receiver and the monitor screen. One thought circulated throughout his mind: _I did NOT sign up for this shit._

As if reading his mind, the voice answered,

“ _Yeah, they don’t’ tell you these things when you sign up, but hey! See you first thing tomorrow. Um, check those monitors and remember to close those doors only if they are absolutely necessary. You got to conserve power. Alright, good night.”_

            John turned to the left and right where the gaping doorways were and blinked. Those were doors? He leaned over and pressed a button on the wall and watched it close before he opened it up again.

            Got to conserve power.

            He groaned again and checked the monitor once more, so far, no movement. He whipped out his phone and sent out a text to Irene, Jim, and Sherlock as a group message.

            **Hey guys so since I might not make it through the night, I just wanted to let you all know I love you –JW 12:39 A.M**

The responses were immediate.

            **Wth are u talking about? –IA 2:40 A.M**

**OMFG so you do love me! :D I love you too <3 –JM 12:40 A.M**

**Wait, wtf are you saying? Johnny, call me! :( –JM 12:41 A.M**

**Jawn?! I don’t understand, If convenient please call ASAP. –SH 12:40 A.M**

**If inconvenient, pick up the damn phone and call me anyway. –SH 12:41 A.M**

John sighed and decided to start up a group call. He called Irene and then Sherlock, knowing full well that Jim would be right beside the tall boy. When he got both Irene and Jim on the same line, he started talking, his eyes glued to the monitor.

            “Okay,” John began, “I sent that text because I’m stuck here at work with animatronics that apparently want to stuff me into a suit and kill me.”

            Jim’s laughter cut through the receiver first before everyone else. John glowered at the phone,

            “I’m glad to see that you’re taking this so damn seriously, Jim, thanks a fucking lot.” he growled.

            Jim stopped laughing immediately, “I… I thought you were kidding.” He said, “You’re obviously not. Sorry about that. Um, Are you able to get out of there?”

            John shook his head, “No.”

            “Honey…I don’t know what to say.” Irene whispered. John’s heart softened a bit at that and he sighed,

            “I don’t know what to do about it. The Phone Guy said it wouldn’t be so bad, but I’m not sure. The animatronics aren’t moving or anything right now.”

            He noticed Sherlock’s silence, “Sherlock, are you there?”

            “Yes I’m here.” Sherlock replied quickly, “Are the animatronics on ‘free-roaming’ mode?”

            “Yeah, that’s what the bloke on the phone said...” John looked over at his monitor and froze. “Holy shit, holy shit, _bloody hell_ -”

            “What happened?” Irene blurted, holding her phone tightly in her hand as she sat rigid on her couch.

            Silence.

            “Johnny-baby, what is it?” Jim held the phone between him and Sherlock. Jim’s hand quickly found Sherlock’s and clasped it tightly as John let out a long, low breath of air.

            “Bonnie’s gone.”


	2. End of Night One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer* I do not own BBC’s Sherlock nor do I own Five Nights at Freddy’s. Shoulda done that earlier.

Five Nights for John Watson

By: Texmex007

John’s fingers were flying across the screen so fast they could have easily flown off their sockets if it were possible. Of course, the probability of that happening was unfortunately less likely than him being stuffed into a _fucking bear suit_ while he was _still fucking alive_.

            “Where is he, where is he, where is he, _where the bloody hell are you?_ ” John muttered through gritted teeth as he flipped through the monitor’s cameras after thoroughly examining each one. He was about to flip to the bathroom’s area when the shadowy figure of _something_ caught his eye backstage. Sure enough, it was Bonnie, standing stock still in the near the door, facing the camera from the shadows.

            John exhaled slowly.

            “Hello there, you little fucker.” He muttered vindictively as he watched the robot start to move slowly around the room and tinker with the spare heads for Chica and Freddy.

            “John?” Irene whispered as she curled up in a tight ball on the couch in her flat, “you still there?”

            “I’m fine.” John answered as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I’m fine,” he repeated, “Just… I’ll call you if anything happens.”

            “John! I don’t want you to go!” Jim whined, earning him a sour look from Sherlock, “What if something happens and I never get to hear your voice again?”

            Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the brown eyed boy, “Would you rather he stay on the phone and risk being distracted and ultimately murdered just because you wanted to convince yourself he’ll be okay?”

            Jim stuck out his bottom lip in a pout and sighed, knowing when he’d been beat.

            “Okay, Johnny, we’ll let you go…” Jim conceded reluctantly, “we love you.”

            “Love you guys too.” John answered before shutting off his phone and placing it on top of the desk next to the fan.

            As Jim placed the phone on the coffee table, Sherlock wrapped an arm around his waist but said nothing in reply to Jim’s questioning raised eyebrow. After a nanosecond Jim’s suspicions were confirmed: Sherlock was just as concerned about John’s safety as he was.

            John watched Bonnie stop again to stand still for a moment longer before flipping through to the stage camera, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he noticed that Freddy and Chica were still in their proper places. So that only left Foxy, which he figured was behind the curtain in Pirate’s Cove and- _thank God_ -the ‘Sorry! Out of Order’ sign. He flipped through to the backstage camera and noticed Bonnie had left, so he flipped through the cameras until he spotted the huge purple bunny robot walking through the aisles of the dining area.

            He chuckled to himself as he watched Bonnie take one of the striped party hats off the table and placed it on his head, only for it to wobble and fall off when he took another step. After about four attempts to keep it on, Bonnie seemed to have given up and carefully placed it back onto its designated spot. As if the robot could hear him, Bonnie’s head tilted up towards the cameras, and for a moment John couldn’t breathe. What had happened to the monitor? He flipped through the cameras until he was staring at the creature hiding in the supply closet.

            “You’re a little too close for my comfort, Bonnie.” John murmured as he flipped back to the stage and, with relief, saw that Chica and Freddy were still inanimate. He flipped back to the supply closet and freaked when Bonnie was gone.

            Suddenly, what could only be described as carnival music started to play, and as it wafted through the open doorways into the office, nearly jumping John out of his skin as he listened to it play. It sounded to him as if it were coming from the west hall, so he checked the monitor.

            There was Bonnie, snugly close to the camera, looking John straight into the eyes and into his soul.

            _“Ba Dum Dum Dum Dum~ Ba Dum Dum Dum Dum~”_

            John tilted his head to listen better as he kept his eyes on the monitor. Where was that coming from? One of the characters? If so, which one? Was it Bonnie? Noises seemed to travel pretty far in this building when it wasn’t full of screaming, rambunctious children. He listened to the sound of heavy foot fall come from his right towards the west hall corner. It didn’t seem like it was coming from Bonnie-so that meant it had to be one of the others.

The camera blacked out again and John looked up at the door and checked the door lights, but Bonnie hadn’t arrived to the corner yet. He did it again, just in case.

            “Holy shit!” John exclaimed as he stared at the huge purple bunny before he closed the door in its face. He checked the door lights and-yep, Bonnie was still there, loitering near his door. He checked his power levels and groaned as he noticed it was down to 35 percent. He checked on Chica and Freddy who hadn’t moved at all so far. He checked the time; 4 o’clock A.M.

            He had two hours to go and he was already halfway-now it was 25 percent! He checked the door lights once more and Bonnie was _still_ there!

            “Bonnie!” John yelled, not sure if the animatronic would actually understand what he was saying but the act of yelling was proving to be too cathartic to quit, “If you could kindly _back the fuck off_ , I’d be much obliged!”

            He checked the door lights again and sighed in relief as he noticed Bonnie had left. With a quick check of the monitors it showed that Bonnie had returned back stage.

            “Thank you!” John muttered to himself, grateful that the creepy carnival music had left with Bonnie.

            He checked the monitors and realized with dread that Chica had decided to join the Try-To-Kill-John-Watson party as he found her in the dining room, her head fixed to the direction of the camera while she paced the length of the tables. She looked up at the camera and seemed to be smiling at him and it gave him the creeps.

He watched her for a while before the monitors blacked out again-meaning she had moved to another room. He flipped through the monitors to check for her, but he could only see Bonnie in the supply closet and Freddy up on stage, frozen as ever. He was about to shut both his doors in a fit of panic when he heard the banging and clanging of what appeared to John as pots and pans.

            He flipped over to the kitchen area, but it was enveloped in eternal darkness. The noises were definitely coming from there. A childhood song popped into his mind and he found himself singing it sardonically,

            “Someone’s in the kitchen and it’s Chica, someone’s in the kitchen, I know, I know, Someone’s in the kitchen and it’s Chica-stay there for all I care!” he sang to himself, his nerves fading away with the sound of his own humor. Humor, much to his surprise, was actually therapeutic to him at the moment, and so he continued on with it as much as he could.

            Chica apparently had become bored with the kitchen, because the next time he checked Chica was there, peering into the window next to his door and nearly giving him a heart attack.

            “What the hell, Chica!” He shouted at her after he shut the door in her face. She pressed her hands and face to the glass and stared at him, her eyes wide and glowing crimson.

“Let’s eat?” he read her bib out loud, “Let’s eat _what_? I hope you mean pizza because I could really go for a slice right about now!” he shot the wad of hamburger foil and soda that definitely wasn’t his. Whoever had the shift right before him-that guy he had run into earlier was a bit of a slob.

_“Ba Dum Dum Dum Dum~ Ba Dum Dum Dum Dum~”_

            Where was that _coming from_? It was obviously masculine, so Chica was automatically ruled out in John’s mind. Speaking of the devilish yellow abomination, he watched as Chica wiped her hands down the wall in response, creating a sick, sliding sound you normally hear when you wear shorts while sliding down a metal slide. He grimaced at her and checked the monitors again.

            Bonnie was now standing in the west hall, much to John’s chagrin.

            “Stay there Bonnie!” John yelled, “Don’t you dare-don’t you dare move!”

            The camera blacked out again and he growled in frustration as he watched Bonnie show up at his door only to have it slammed in its face.

            “I’m not putting up with your shit, Bonnie!” John sneered. He turned to the right handed door and checked the door light. Wherever Chica had wandered off to, he could care less. He opened the door with relief and checked the energy level and the clock.

            15 percent left to go and it was finally 5 o’clock A.M.

            John groaned, “Bonnie, seriously, go away! I don’t have enough power for this!” he yelled at the door. He checked the door lights and nearly banged his head against the wall as he noticed Bonnie hadn’t moved an inch. John checked the monitor again and took note that Chica was loitering around the entrance for the girl’s bathroom, debating on whether or not she wanted to go in or not.

            When he thought about it, Chica was the only female animatronic in the group-maybe she liked going in there to get away from the others? John laughed at the absurdity of it-of course she didn’t. She was just a demonic animatronic that wanted to peck his eyes out with that sharp looking beak of hers and stuff his face into an empty bear suit and kill him dead.

            He sighed and leaned back in his chair with the monitor in his lap. He lifted it back up and checked it again. Chica was in the east hall, not close enough for him to be worried just yet, and after checking the door light Bonnie was _still_ at his door.

            “This fu-” John checked the door lights again and stopped in mid-sentence as he noticed that Bonnie had finally left. He pushed the door open with relief as he saw that the power was now falling at a much more tolerable pace than before.

            He checked the right door lights and yelped as Chica yet again pressed her face against the glass, staring at him unblinkingly. He begrudgingly closed the door on her and stared down at Bonnie on his monitor who had went back to the dining room to have another go at the party hats.

            He was about to check the door lights again when the bell signifying the end of his shift and the opening of the Pizzeria tolled. The lights immediately in the hallways illuminated and when John checked the monitors, all the characters were back up on stage, still as statues. He breathed out a sigh of relief-he had done it.

            He had made it through night one. He got up, checked out, and barely restrained himself from running to his car.

            As he sat behind the wheel, he realized that now he had to go home and face Jim and Sherlock who were probably worried sick since he hadn’t called or texted since he’d said ‘goodbye’. A small, sadistic part of him wanted to wait till he got home, and for once he actually fed it and didn’t pick up the phone once as he drove home.

            He unlocked the door as quietly as he could, and when he opened it, he almost toppled backwards as a very enthusiastic Jim jumped into his arms and wrapped his legs around his waist like a toddler.

            “Whoa there!” John cried, his hands shooting out to support the extra weight enforced on him, “What’s this? Why aren’t you two asleep yet?”

            Sherlock closed and relocked the door behind him.

            “Isn’t it obvious John?” Sherlock reprimanded the dishwater blonde incredulously, “We decided to wait up for you.”

            Jim nosed the crook of his neck and sighed, “I’m never letting you go ever again. I’ll lock you away and keep you in a dungeon, where only I-”

            Sherlock cleared his throat.

            “-me and Sherlock can see you and no one else because you’re _ours._ ” Jim continued.

            Being threatened to be locked away in a dungeon should not have sounded as good to him as it did at that moment. He easily carried Jim over to the couch and plopped down into the plush cushions and sighed. He had been sighing a lot tonight, he realized, and as he rubbed circles into Jim’s back the stress he had endured seemed to evaporate like water, leaving only a dull tired feeling seep into his bones.

            There was one thing he couldn’t deny himself from, and that was the adrenalin he had felt as he sat in the office. It had pulsated throughout his body at the time, and now that he was home it had faded away-and then Jim began to grind against him. Sherlock perched himself on the arm of the chair and massaged John’s free shoulder with warm precision, attacking knots that had formed without his knowledge nor permission during work. He tilted his head back and groaned.

            “Did you miss us John?” Sherlock asked, his voice a deep thunderous rumble that resonated inside John’s chest.

            “Yeah, John,” Jim asked, one hand sliding down John’s torso, “Did you miss us? Did you miss _me_?”

            “Yes.”

            Jim’s hand paused at his waistband, his deft fingers untucking a portion of his shirt so he could rub small circles against the blonde’s bare skin. John’s breath hitched as Sherlock’s hand left his shoulder to run through his hair.

            “You know Sherlock,” Jim said, turning to the taller boy with a grin, “I don’t think I believe him.”

            Sherlock lightly scraped his nails against his scalp, “Is that so? Jim, I must say, I am in agreement. I don’t believe him either.”

            It wasn’t until his eyes fluttered open that John even realized he had closed them in the first place. He looked to Sherlock who seemed to be sharing a conspiratorial look that he wasn’t even sure he liked or not. Jim continued,

            “You know, I think he should make it up to us,” Jim purred, “that way we can know for sure that he truly did miss us. What do you think, Sherly?”

            Sherlock pulled a face of deep consideration and then a wide, brilliant smile bloomed across his features.

            “I concur wholeheartedly.” He replied, his hand gripping the hairs on the back of John’s neck, forcing John to look up at him. “What do you say, John? How about we take into action what Jim proposed earlier?”

            For one split second, John didn’t know what they were talking about, and then recognition jolted through him like an electric socket. He might have been tired at one point, but as of 0.5 seconds ago, he was awake and rearing to go.

            “I just defended myself for six hours against killer robots,” John laughed, “and you think I’m up for a shag?”

            Jim’s fingers clamped down on his hip and Sherlock looked him dead in the eye.

            “Yes.” Sherlock answered, the word ‘ _obviously_ ’ left out but heavily implied. John grinned,

            “I’m so glad you know guys know me so well.”

            Jim moved to get up but John held him close and got up without difficulty, much to Jim’s amusement. Jim grinned smugly at Sherlock as the violinist watched John carry him down the hallway.

            “Hey Johnny,” Jim asked as Sherlock shut the door behind them, “think we can use your cuffs?”

            John shoved him onto the bed and smirked, as the boy propped himself up onto his elbows, “Only if it’s you that gets cuffed.”

            “Why can’t we tie up Sherlock?” Jim asked, pointing to the curly haired boy. Sherlock scoffed,

            “Because, Jim, you’re the one that brought it up. Now, sit up and put your wrists together and maybe we’ll use that baton John’s got if you behave.”

Jim sat up immediately with an excited smile plastered onto his face and eagerly held his hands up in front of him, his wrists together. “See? I can be a good boy.”

            John laughed and thanked his luck-in one day he had been scared senseless and now he was looking forward to being shagged senseless.

            If this was to be a daily routine, then maybe he’d keep the damn job.

            Maybe.


	3. Night 2 part 1: Napping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After making it back home alive, John decides to visit the lion's den during the day, and he takes Jim with him.
> 
> A lot of Johniarty and Sheriarty fluff in this one. Coz naps.
> 
> Next chapter we'll see John returning back to work and-holy hell, would it kill the previous worker to clean up after himself???

John awoke the next morning in a tangled heap of limbs and sheets. For a moment he couldn't remember why, but then all of yesterday's memories flooded back into his mind-the announcement, going to work, almost dying multiple times, shagging-it had been a great shag too, but he was still tired. He glanced at his alarm clock and sighed, reading “11:45 A.M.”.

Well, 5 hours was better than none at all. He glanced down at Jim’s sleeping form beside him and smiled to himself, for a little demon, Jim was awfully cute when he was asleep. He looked around for Sherlock but it was apparent that the boy had gotten up earlier.

Carefully, he peeled Jim off him before sneaking out of the room and making a beeline to the bathroom. After about 15 minutes he re-emerged into the hallway and shuffled into the front of the flat where the living room and kitchen merged into two sides of the same room. Sure enough, Sherlock's backpack was gone, which meant that he had gone to class for the afternoon. He wondered if Mike too had left for classes.

Unlike his flatmates, John didn't actually have classes this semester, since he was off track, but had decided to stay in the flat with his friends and try to land a job to earn extra money. Speaking of jobs..

John sighed to himself as he poured a bowl of Chex cereal and some milk. What was he going to do about this job? He had been job hunting for weeks and so far it had been the only one available, and even though he would've liked to earn more, there seemed to be nowhere else for him to go.

And then there was the greatest issue, which was the murderous animatronics. He had handled them easily enough, hadn't he? And if he was being honest with himself, he had enjoyed it-enjoyed the thrill of fighting to stay alive, the thrill of  _ winning.  _ He wondered to himself about the children as he mindlessly munched his cereal; were the children safe during the day? And did the animatronics ever act like they did when he was "guarding" them during the day time?

One thing was clear: he needed answers. After cleaning his bowl and putting it up on the dish rack to dry, John snuck back into his room to grab some clothes and his keys. When he popped his head through the door Jim was wide awake, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

_ Shit, did I wake him up?  _ John panicked, “Hey there Jim, I didn't mean to wake you-”

Jim cut him off with a long, lazy yawn as the Irish boy reached for the ceiling and stretched like a well-fed cat.

“You didn't wake me Johnny,” Jim yawned, “I just woke up. And I'm ready to conquer the world!”

John watched with a smile as Jim crawled out of bed and shuffled over for a hug.

“Hey, you up for an adventure?” John asked. Jim looked up at him with wide brown eyes

“If it's with you then of course!” Jim chirped before adding “where are we going?”

John followed him into his room to explain as he got dressed.

“I want to go to the Pizzaria and observe the animatronics there to see how they interact with the children,” John explained, “so are you free today?”

Jim tilted his head in thought as he rummaged through his dresser, “Yeah, I'm free till 7 tonight, coz my class starts at 7:45 P.M. and ends at 9.”

John shuddered, “I hate night classes.”

Jim shrugged, “Well, it means I'll be up later and able to text you if you're going to work again tonight. I assume you are, since you wanted to go back and observe them.”

John nodded, “So I take it you're not against me going back then?”

Jim grinned, “Why no, of course not. I would be shocked if you didn't go back. That job sure made you lively when you came home.”

John nodded, “Yeah, it.. It did. It felt like I was in a game, almost.”

“And you had won.” Jim finished for him. Both now fully dressed, they walked into the kitchen.

Jim opened up a cupboard door and swiped down a box of Pop Tarts before grabbing a package and tearing it open with a vicious smile he usually reserved for food. He then took a big bite out of a s’more Pop Tart and moaned softly, relishing the sweet taste of chocolate and marshmallow. John licked his lips.

“Wou oo wike suhm?” Jim mouthed unabashedly as he continued chewing, holding out the spare Pop Tart. John shook his head and chuckled before pulling the slightly taller boy towards him and placing a chaste kiss on the corner of Jim’s mouth.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are absolutely adorable?” John murmured, admiring the faint blush he procured from Jim's face.

Jim shook his head, a small grin plastered onto his face.

“Well, you are.” John said firmly, before turning away towards the door.

“You about ready to go?”

“Sure, let's hit it.” Jim replied, smiling wide as John held out the door for him.

The Pizzaria was jam packed today, children of all sizes and ages from 4-14 could be seen, running around with sticky fingers and pizza stains on their shirts. For a half second, John pitied their parents, but after noticing that many of the parents there were on their phones and completely ignoring their kids, he didn't pity them anymore.

“Hey, there's one over there!” Jim whispered into his ear, pointing towards Bonnie as the bunny robot handed out party hats. John chuckled.

“What's so funny?” Jim asked, shooting him a confused look.

“Bonnie kept trying to put on those party hats last night but they kept falling off his head,” John explained as they walked over to get a better look. He continued, “so the big oaf would pick em’ back up just to have em’ fall back down. I thought it was hilarious when I wasn't fearing for my life.”

Jim hmm’d as he examined the animatronic’s fur and build as it was distracted by the children.

“Well, it's in good shape,” Jim started, but froze when Bonnie turned around to look at him with its soulless purple eyes. John froze too, although he made a point in standing between Jim and the brainless creature that tried to kill him last night.

When it saw John, however, it's ears perked up, as if it recognized him, and it blinked. John held his breath until it turned away and came back with two party hats.

“Oh,” Jim cooed, eyes still wide from fear, “thank you.”

Bonnie nodded clumsily, its movements rigid with mechanical restraint.

“Bonnie seems nice.” Jim remarked after Bonnie had left.

John shook his head, the party hat held tight in his hands, “He may look nice  _ now,”  _ John whispered, “but believe me, that purple little fucker is a real piece of work at around 4 A.M. in the morning.”

Jim fought hard not to burst out laughing, he really did-honest, but he couldn't help but let out a tiny giggle.

“Yeah, yeah laugh it up. It is kinda funny,” John said. They watched as Freddy took the stage, along with Chica and Bonnie.

“Are y-y-you guys ha-having fun?” Freddy asked in a cheerful voice. The children cheered and shouted in response.

“Yay!” Chica said, turning to Bonnie, “I'm s-s-so happy I c-c-could sing!”

“M-m-me too!” Bonnie replied. With that, the three animatronics began to play music and sing corny songs that John couldn't bring himself to listen closely too.

“Well, at least they are good with the children,” John sighed in relief, “that's the most important thing. And they seem to only act like raging homicidal maniacs at night.”

Jim grabbed his hand and held it firmly. John smiled and squeezed it before leading Jim back to the car.

“Now what?” Jim asked, “Do you wanna get some more sleep?”

“Sounds perfect to me,” John replied as he started up the car, “since you and Sherl kept me up last night.”

Jim grinned wolfishly to himself as they tore out of the parking lot. Hopefully, with a little luck, they could do it again tonight.

*****

Sherlock threw his backpack onto the couch, rubbing his shoulder vigorously. He kicked off his shoes and toed off his socks before picking up both and carrying them to his room. When he opened the door he noticed immediately two things:  
1\. John was asleep, and  
2\. Jim was in their room.

Sherlock shrugged to himself before shutting the door as quietly as he could and began to redress himself into some comfy pajamas he had strewn on his side of the bed.

He admired his own ingenuity as he thought about their sleeping arrangements-their beds weren't big enough to hold two people comfortably, so in the heat of the moment Sherlock had John help him push their beds into the center of the room, providing ample space on both sides to change and move about. He heard someone roll over in bed and looked up to see Jim looking at him.

"Hey," Jim muttered, his Irish accent thick with sleep. He then proceeded to start lazily patting the bed beside him, "there's plenty of room."

Sherlock smiled to himself at the sound of the other man's voice. In all his life, he never thought he would be so attracted to the sound of a voice, but there was Jim, able to win him over just by the way he pronounced words. He finally slipped into bed with them, John passed out on his back and Jim facing Sherlock on his side.

Jim wordlessly wrapped his arms around the taller boy's frame and brought him close to nuzzle his face into Sherlock's chest. With a deep sigh, Jim fell right back to sleep, and it wasn't long before Sherlock joined him.


End file.
